


Loaded Dice

by qvill



Category: Just Roll With It (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Injury, Spoilers, also not all of these are br'aad POV but yknow most of them just ended up that way, and im taking suggestions for these so Please, but pertaining to specific rolls that occur in the podcast, essentially it's a whole bunch of 'what if' situations, for the everything, mild au-s, probably some mild, since there are so many close calls oh my GOD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24172114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qvill/pseuds/qvill
Summary: Br'aad has danced with games and fate among the same stage enough that sometimes, the two could nearly be indistinguishable. He'd rather just consider himself lucky, and let the dice rolling behind the scenes mind its own business.[ or, a number of scenes in which dice in another plane are rolled differently. ][ mild aus: what-ifs pertaining to canonical rolls being different ]
Comments: 14
Kudos: 69





	1. Harpy : Luring Song

**Author's Note:**

> can you tell that this is an excuse for me to write more 'what ifs'?
> 
> congrats! it very much is
> 
> but!! this was initially inspired after someone on twitter mentioned that if Br'aad actually failed his roll against the harpies, what would happen? and so I liked the idea of speculating on official rolls, and thus, here we are. 
> 
> please suggest moments in the actual episodes + the roll in particular, and I'll toss it around and see where it takes us! I might even actually roll with my own dice. But! So far, I have in mind Br'aad's roll against the harpy, maybe one of Taxi's rolls when evading the barber, something from Sylnan + Br'aad versus the blue orc, and more. 
> 
> also these are gonna be shorter so I can get a lot out, because this podcast is legit fun to write for.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Br'aad can't help but find melody in the mundane... and sometimes, the melody finds him. And if the melody wants him to fall off an airship? Well, that's just how it be. 

\--

Roll switched: Br'aad's saving throw against the harpy's _Luring Song._

\--

Br’aad’s leaning on the airship railing, eyes closed, head tilted back, allowing himself to be blissfully immersed in the passing breeze. It’s wonderfully refreshing, and every time he finds himself lulling into a tranquil, semi-conscious state, he swears that the whistling breeze begins to shift into rolling waves, into the gentle crashing rhythm of the wharf. 

Wild. He’d never think that he’d become nostalgic for that dump, but alas, here he is. He twists his body around, elbows resting on the fine wooden railing, and perhaps the pillowy clouds begin to contort into rolling waves, with gleaming seafoam and sunlight twinkling as the ship glides through the blue expanse. 

The last time he’d been on a ship, it was after smuggling himself in by crate, and promptly throwing his theatrics at the nearest interesting folks around— a scruffy ginger tabaxi, and a level-headed lavender tiefling. 

Ah, what the fuck could those strangers be up to now? Br’aad stifles a laugh as he glances around at the thought, and catches sight of Taxi’s bemused expression as the wind tussles his fur, sticking it out this way and that. 

Velrisa seems to be doing much the same as the bard, peacefully peering over the edge, looking… pleasantly tranquil. Br’aad can’t help but smile at the sight. Despite… _everything_ , there’s an undeniable bond that he possesses with the others, that, no matter what the tries, he can’t quite seem to shake. 

So if he’s comforted by the sight of their cleric at peace, then he’ll just smile out of sight. 

But, he surely doesn’t have the same need for tranquil prayer or whatnot, and his mind swiftly bounds from reminiscing about ocean waves, to the jovial tunes that could be heard among the dockyards. Bards and bored cabin boys that would sit along the railings, legs precariously dangling as they’d pluck out tunes on lutes or hoarsely chorus sea shanties. 

Perhaps, Br’aad contemplates, that’s when music entered his life. There’s quite the appeal of seeing sea-farers carry tunes from distant lands, morphing and melding into a unique amalgamation of musical origins into something remarkable, something that the rolling waves and whistling winds seem to sing from the distance, ever inspiring…

As if led by his own train of thought, Br’aad quietly begins to hum an unconscious melody that he can’t remember learning. The sheer amount of days by the dockyard, sneaking items from deposits of cargo or performing odd jobs for jaded sailors led to a grand amount of music surrounding the half-elf’s younger years, and he can hardly pinpoint the origin of the tunes that imprinted on him over his childhood. 

Yet, this tune feels just as familiar as the rest, and it’s quite the delightful melody that he follows. It’s a cheerful tune, full of high, lilting hums and clicks of his tongue, fingers drumming against the railing as he props himself atop it, just as the musicians of the wharf did. His legs kick and sway in the wind as his raises the volume of his hum, golden locks bouncing as his head sways to the tune. Occasional whistles and lower thrums add a grander depth to the spontaneous melody, and if his kazoo wasn’t below deck, he’d most _definitely_ be adding a kickass solo. 

A good thirty seconds into the tune, and Br’aad catches sight of his companions. Mountain, subtly nodding to the beat before noticing the half-elf watching, and quickly shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Sylnan, up atop the crow’s nest, fingers tapping against the railing. Taxi’s tail swishing methodically as the tabaxi attempts to smooth out his fur. He even meets Velrisa’s gaze, her tail curling, a slight smile upon her face. He answers with a grin, quickly glancing away to adjust his position atop the railing. 

When he looks back up, he quickly finds the tiefling’s gaze again, and his answering smile doesn’t falter until he notes her expression. For a moment, he interprets it as a superior disappointment, before the details sink in. Her tail has stopped swishing. Her grip on the wooden railing has tightened. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is slightly agape. 

But what can the matter be? He hums, considering it, before the tune continues from afar, with far more elegance and depth than his land-lubber self can do. It’s a proper sea shanty, a siren’s enticing call, and who is he to deny the musician’s tune? 

Br’aad is smiling as he leans backwards, and he falls over the railing. Shouts pierce through the melody so abruptly that he’s only just begun falling when he blinks, and the tune dies in his throat. 

_Oh_ , Br’aad thinks, and the delightful hum is replaced by a terrified _scream_. 

Wind is whistling past him, a far cry from its former alluring sound, and Br’aad’s limbs flail as he plummets, desperately trying to slow his fall or grab onto something and he can see Sylnan’s distant face peering from the crow’s nest, and he can only imagine what expression it bears, and he’s plummeting and he can’t bring himself to look down but he’s falling further and further and further and the shapes of spiraling harpies begin to reveal themselves, swooping past him in flurries of disgustingly appealing song, and he swears he can hear his own hum among the whistling wind, and there’s another set of wings diving towards him, hawk-like and he can see sunlight glinting off of curled ceratin, and he tightly shuts his eyes, waiting for the talons to sink into his chest or tear away his vocal cords or whatever the _fuck_. 

Hands, warm and unfeathered and lavender, grab under his shoulders, halting his descent, and his heart leaps into his throat. His arms, one blank and one with golden rivulets, instinctively grasp onto the lifeline, and he spares a glance upwards. 

And it’s Velrisa, wings unfurled from her cloak. And her face shifts from that of startling dread and terror, into a reassuring smile, that he can’t help but be happy for—despite everything— and he can’t help but smile back. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again: please comment bc they truly inspire me to write and my mind does the heart eyes emoji every time i see that notification
> 
> and i'd love to hear your ideas! this fic is particularly for canonical rolls that are different than what they end up being in the show, so keep that in mind! love yall!


	2. Eye of the Beholder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Br’aad doesn’t quite dodge the beholder’s eyebeam after fiddling with time to bring Velrisa back. The beholder, despite the twists of time and memory, decides to try something else the second time around.

Roll(s) Switched: Beholder’s ray of choice (Ray of enervation (8d8 necrotic damage)) and Br’aad’s saving throw against said ray.

\--

Br’aad smiles, because it can’t be anything short of a miracle. Two miracles, in fact. 

Or, it’s simple equivalency: one person’s well-being in exchange for another’s. That feels more appropriate for the ramshackle patterns of fate and time bullshittery, right? Fate is a convoluted motherfucker, he decides, that he really doesn’t like, no siree. 

_ So _ , why did they call themselves the Fated? He’d put more faith in themselves if they were called the Fucked. 

It’s a terrible joke. He can’t help but laugh, and the noise heaves from his chest, burbling in his throat. 

Dimly, he glances down at his chest again, as if expecting anything different than the pitch-black blotch over his heart, strikingly bold against his pale skin. Huh. If he had the braincell to spare, perhaps he’d consider the peculiarity of his complexion. Instead, the braincell numbly observes his tattoos, and how gold laces across his skin, rather than sharp purple scrawlings. 

It’s kinda nice. He makes a move to inspect his arm, to feel the marking on his face. 

His fingers only twitch in response. 

Huh. 

Maybe he’s injured. 

He tries to laugh again, at the blunt, unobservant thought, and it’s quite the horrific sound, he must admit. His chest heaves and seizes as the laugh contorts into a wet, burbling cough, and it  _ wracks  _ through his chest, tearing through his lungs, his heart, and it’s a viscous blend of black, necrotic bile and blood that trickles from his mouth. His head taps against stone as it lulls back, and he faintly notes that he’s collapsed against a wall. 

Huh. 

But… he’s not dead? He’s not stone? Not dust? 

It’d be a lot more painless if he were fucking dust, Br’aad thinks grimly, and he resists the urge to cry when he starts to cough again. His ribs feel inverted, his heart feels heavy and suffocated and halfway in his lungs and he’s never really liked necrotic magic. Too much death. Too much chance and bending the rules. 

He never really was a fan of fate, either, and yet, here he is, resident jokester of the  _ Fated _ . 

He doesn’t even try to laugh anymore, and he sinks against the haphazard stone wall, eyes faintly set on the spiderweb of necrotic impact over his chest. He blinks once, then twice, and the battle’s… over? It’s over? 

He can only shift his eyes, but Hilltree is standing above the beholder, stabbing into its eye again and again and again, and Mountain is there, giving it a hearty kick. 

He hums quietly, content at the sight, and his eyelids are quick to sink at the first moment of relief. 

He is spared the fleeting moments beforehand, however, just in time to see Velrisa and Sylnan sprinting towards him, and they’re  _ both  _ so  _ wonderfully  _ alive. It doesn’t matter that Velrisa’s face is that of pure terror and concern, or how his brother swiftly falls to a kneeling position beside him, trembling fingers hovering over the black stain across his chest, or even the wave of relief from them all as they find a pulse along his wrist. 

Warm, lavender hands are gently placed against his chest, and pinpricks shoot through his lungs, swiftly chased after by a soothing, encompassing relief. 

Br’aad slips into unconsciousness, intentionally and blissfully ignorant to the wiles of fate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again!! I've already gotten my grabby writer hands on some good good ideas, but I'd love to hear more! Remember, the focus is on canonical rolls being different. I'd love to play with nat 1s that injure an ally, but I can't seem to think of a good one. Any ideas, folks?
> 
> As always, your comments are wonderful and the serotonin train comes along whenever I see that notification. Have a good day!!


End file.
